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Updated: May 1, 2025
You may see in certain Flemish pictures the wives of burgomasters cut out by nature on the same pattern and wonderfully reproduced on canvas; but these dames wear fine robes of velvet and precious stuffs, whereas Madame Saillard possessed no robes, only that venerable garment called in Touraine and Picardy "cottes," elsewhere petticoats, or skirts pleated behind and on each side, with other skirts hanging over them.
Saillard and Baudoyer were politely avoided, for nobody knew what to say to them about La Billardiere's death, it being fully understood that Baudoyer wanted the place, though it was certainly not due to him. When Saillard and his son-in-law had gone a certain distance from the ministry the former broke silence and said: "Things look badly for you, my poor Baudoyer."
"You will be appointed, nephew," said Mitral; "and there's a surprise in store for you." "What is it?" asked Saillard. "The cross of the Legion of honor?" cried Mitral. "God protects those who guard his altars," said Gaudron. Thus the Te Deum was sung with equal joy and confidence in both camps.
Celestine threw up her head like a thoroughbred before the race, and re-read the invitation just as Baudoyer and Saillard had re-read the articles about themselves in the newspapers, without being able to quaff enough of it.
No one moved as the cashier entered, and for some minutes he walked up and down the room, his fat face contracted with unaccustomed thought. "He is always so when he dines at the ministry," remarked Madame Saillard; "happily, it is only twice a year, or he'd die of it.
The company sang at dessert, shook hands and embraced with enthusiasm, wishing each other all manner of happiness; the presents were exhibited and the opinion of the guests asked about them. The day Saillard received his fur cap he wore it during the dessert, to the satisfaction of all present.
Saillard; how ridiculous you look. Take care, my man, you'll make the woman laugh." "'Madame la comtesse," resumed Saillard. "Is that better, wife?" "Yes, my duck." "'The place of the worthy Monsieur de la Billardiere is vacant; my son-in-law, Monsieur Baudoyer " "'Man of talent and extreme piety," prompted Gaudron. "Write it down, Baudoyer," cried old Saillard, "write that sentence down."
His eyes had been downcast all this time, and now, when he raised them, I perceived that my comfort had been administered to deaf ears. "Do you know who she is?" said he. "Not from Eve." "Jacques Saillard," he said, as though now I must know. But the name left me cold and stolid. I had heard it, but that was all.
The upper ranks of that body have at all times been royalist and they prove it when occasion offers." "The price was five thousand francs," said the Abbe Gaudron; "but as the payment was in cash, the court jeweller reduced the amount." "Representing one of the oldest bourgeois families in Paris!" Saillard was saying to himself; "there it is printed, in the official paper, too!"
When Monsieur Mitral and the vicar had departed, Saillard rolled back the card-table and sat down in an armchair in the attitude he always assumed when about to tell some office-gossip, a series of movements which answered the purpose of the three knocks given at the Theatre-Francais.
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